Of Spells and Enchantments, Potions and Friends!
by Twisted Wonderland
Summary: To channel my Harry Potter energy, this is just a fun fic written for myself and my friends at Hogwarts. Read if you want, or if you don't. c: Rated T for future cursing.


**I got really lazy towards the end of this, but whatever.**

**To be such a n00b, and to channel all my HARRY POTTER energies right now, I'm writing a fic with myself and my friends at Hogwarts. I'M SO HARDCORE, MAN. I'm weird about little details, too, and this chapter is full of them, but I'm probably the only person who'd catch them, haha.**

**The next will be the start of Hogwarts, and therefore much more interesting.**

Getting the letter was expected; growing up in a magical home, my mother had seen the signs when I was young, everything from managing to make myself float when my uncle tried to throw me in the pool to my tendency to have kneazles follow me home. Hogwarts was a place I'd grown up hearing about, from uncles and cousins and grandmothers, but despite all this, it didn't destroy my rush of excitement when I saw our barn owl, Sparrow, clutching the letter in his beak.

Likewise, while I had been to Diagon Alley a few times, it didn't compare to this one, when I was buying all my supplies. Over time we had been stocking up in preparation, purchasing things like my cauldron (pewter, standard) and any books we knew I'd need (_Standard Book of Spells_, _A History of Magic_). But there were still other things to buy, things like potion supplies and robes, glass phials and a _wand_. Oh, a wand. There were few things I had desired more in the past years of watching my mother cook and scourgify the house with her own willow stick. It was with great tredepitation that I stood before Ollivander's, near trembling.

My mother didn't notice my concern, and pushed her way in. I hastened to follow, relieved at the absence of my sister and brother, who would undoubtedly tease me if they saw the way I was acting. (Nevermind their jealousy over myself getting my wand before them.) Ollivander's was dark and enclosed, but it practically tingled with magic, and a need to be silent swept over me, as one might have while standing in a particularly impressive cathedral. Ollivander himself was very frail-looking, examining me closely from behind a desk. There were rumors that he was training some great-nephew of his to carry on his business due to his declining health (being kidnapped and tortured by Voldemort is, I'm sure, a harrowing ordeal), and sure enough, I could spy a gentlemen in one of the upper flights, doing what seemed to be stacking wands.

"Hogwarts?"

The wizened voice drew me back, and I answered with a prompt, and mildly nervous, "yes, sir". He beckoned for me to step forward and I immediately did so, holding out my right arm in preparation for his question. He gave a quiet nod and began his measurements, muttering quietly to himself. Then, without seemingly any pause, he turned and walked to the shelf, pulling out a box and withdrawing a wand from it. "Hawthorn, phoenix feather. Try this one."

I took it in my hands, frowning at the lack of feeling. Shouldn't there be more feeling in a wand?

Ollivander apparently caught my expression and pulled it away, placing it back on the shelf. The next, a cherry with dragonhearstring, was beautiful, and I willed with all my might to have the wand take to me. There was a slight tingle of warmth, and I looked up at the wandmaker in excitement, but he was shaking his head, already moving to take the wand from me. "Close, but not enough. How about…"

The next wand placed into my hand was unnaturally pale. It was almost white, and the handle was twisted with vine-like shapes. "Rowan, dragonheartstring. Nine inches." Ollivander provided, smiling as I clung to it. Warmth had immediately shot up my fingers, and pale sparks had emitted from the tip.

Wand purchased, we hurried to get the rest of my supplies, the things I was less excited for, such as potion supplies and the like. I eyed the broomsticks enviously, but I paused altogether outside of Magical Menagerie and turned towards my mother, displaying my best puppydog eyes. "May I please get a rat? We're allowed to have them, I know we are, and they have those beautiful black ones, they're so smart…"

She shot me a look that was clearly one of disgust; my mother was terrified of rats. "No. But…" She paused, clearly contemplating, looking back up the street. "I could get you an owl. Jamie and I use Sparrow too often for you to properly contact us. Would that be alright?"

Leaving Diagon Alley that day I held the cage of a lesser sooty owl, clutching her close and making soft noises at her. She rustled about while my mom rolled her eyes, despite being clearly glad I was pleased. "What are you going to name her?"

I paused for a long moment, contemplating. "Keely." I announced at last, observing the bird. "It means 'irish beauty'."

My mother frowned. "That's an ugly name. Why don't you choose something that isn't so… bizarre?"

I frowned right back at her. "It isn't bizarre. It's pretty. It rolls off your tongue. Kee-lee."

"Well, I don't like it."

We continued to squabble about names the rest of the way home.


End file.
